


Even Now

by Khylara



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: One dark and rainy night, somone Michael loves comes back to him.
Relationships: Michael Cole/Tazz
Kudos: 3





	Even Now

Title: Even Now  
Author: Khylara  
Fandom/Couple: WWF M. Cole/Tazz (Peter)  
Rating: r for m/m affection Also VERY sappy  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I promise to put them back when I'mdone. Also, "Even Now" isn't mine, either. Belongs to BarryManilow. I'll put that back, too.  
Distribution: "Not Every Thug Needs A Lady" If you'd like it.Everyone else, just let me know where it ends up.  
Feedback: Yes, either on or off list at [Melmast@gmail.com](mailto:Melmast@...)  
Timeline: This is set approximately five years in the future.Comments: My contibution to my Barry Manilow Challenge. (I figuredput up or shut up :) The lyrics to the song are woven in and hintedat throughout the entire story. Also, I know the song is very sad,but I couldn't resist making this a happy ending, maybe because we'vehad so few of them lately with these two.:)  
  
// = indicates thought  
Michael's POV  
  
*******************************  
  
Even Now  
-Khylara  
  
Five years.  
  
It doesn't seem like a long time, but in the wrestling business, fiveyears is forever. Careers have begun and ended in five years; new faces replace the old, names change, personas grow stale, injuriestake their toll. I've seen a lot in the past five years and I remember it all, but I remember one wrestler, one man, in particular.  
  
Tazz.  
  
But then he was always Peter to me.  
  
I have a picture of the two of us here on my desk; maybe that's why Iremember him so well. At least that's what I tell myself when I wake up crying in the middle of the night. I have a lot of photos of thetwo of us working together in an album under the sofa, but this one is special because it's us away from the announcer's table. We're at the WWF's annual Christmas party and Peter has an arm around my shoulder as we toast whoever was holding the camera with twin smiles and twin glasses of champagne.  
  
/JR,/ I remembered fondly, my throat tightening a little. Jim Ross had died six months later doing what he loved; a massive heart attack had taken him while he was commentating a match. I still miss him, especially during a pay-per-view.  
  
But not as much as I miss Peter, because it wasn't just friendship with us.  
  
It was love.  
  
I still can't believe it hurts so much to think about him. Like I said, it's been five years. It shouldn't be this hard without him after so long. I don't know why it is.  
  
That's a lie; I know. Feelings that strong, that sure, don't go away, Not after five years, not after fifty. The pain doesn't go away, either, and it doesn't get easier with the passage of time. I know that, too.  
  
Sighing, I put the picture down and picked up my pen. Brooding about it wouldn't change things, and even if I could, there wasn't much I could do. I didn't even know where he was.  
  
But that doesn't change the fact that I still think about him every day, even if only for a minute or two. I wonder where he is, if he's doing well, if he's happy. I worry about him being alone and needing someone, maybe being injured and unable to wrestle. What would he do then? I like to think he'd come back to me if something like that happened, but then Peter's always been proud.  
  
I let out another heavy sigh as I reluctantly pushed thoughts of my missing love aside. My musings wern't getting "Cole's Comments" done, and the column was due across the editor's desk next week. I was better off thinking about things I could change rather than things I couldn't.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
I turned around in my chair, my eyes widening when I saw my daughter at the foot of the stairs. I glanced at the clock; she should've been asleep long ago. "Sabrina, honey, what are you doing up?"  
  
She ducked her head down, her long brown hair falling over her face. "Rain woke me," she murmured, pulling on the ear of the orange teddy bear she was clutching.  
  
I glanced out the window. The light fall shower had turned into a downpour, complete with lightning and cracks of thunder. I had been too lost in thought to notice the change.  
  
I held out my hand. Sabrina didn't like thunder. When she was a baby she used to scream the house down every time there was a storm. "You want to sit with Daddy for awhile?" She nodded and came scampering over.  
  
I lifted her into my lap and wrapped my arms around her, burying a kiss in her hair. She curled into me, laying her head on my shoulder, her bear held tightly in her grasp. "There," I said,shifting her weight a little, making sure she wouldn't fall. "That better, honey?"  
  
"Yeah." Her dark eyes turned to the papers littering my desk. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
"Writing my column for the magazine," I explained, laying my cheek  
against her hair.  
  
She looked up. "Then you're busy working?"  
  
I had to smile at that; Sabrina's only seven, but she knows that when Daddy is at his desk, he's working and don't bother him unless it's important. "Not right now, honey. Daddy's taking a break for a little while." I kissed her cheek. "Never too busy for you."  
  
We sat together for awhile, listening to the rain hitting the windows. I get so little time with my daughter; usually we're both on the run with Smackdown and pay-per-views for me, school and my sister's for her. Pretty soon she was going to be too old to climb into Daddy's lap for comfort; she was getting so big already...  
  
I gazed down at her fondly, watching her little fingers pluck at the fur of her bear. It was showing signs of much love; the plush was worn away in some spots with the rest faded from numerous washings, the ribbon that had once been around it's neck had disappeared long ago and the right leg had been sewn back on after a mishap with a car  
door. In fact, I was surprised it looked as well as it did; Sabrina carries it everywhere with her and she's had it since her second birthday.  
  
I ran my finger over the bear's nose. "Orange is looking a little worn," I said quietly. "Maybe it's time for a new bear, hmm?"  
  
She gave me a stubborn look and clutched it tighter. "No," she said firmly. "Uncle Tazz gave her to me."  
  
Tears stung my eyes; she remembered? It was so long ago... "You remember Uncle Tazz?" I asked softly; she hadn't seen him since not too long after that birthday.  
  
She nodded. "Some. He used to play airplane with me and hug me lots." She paused. "Where is he? I want him here."  
  
/So do I,/ I couldn't help thinking. "I don't know where he is," I said truthfully. "Daddy hasn't talked to him in a long time."  
  
"Why?" She wrinkled her nose, confused. "Don't you like Uncle Tazz no more?"  
  
I swallowed hard. "Daddy likes Uncle Tazz very much," I replied. "It's just...I don't know where he is, honey. He went away a long time ago."  
  
"Why?" Sabrina looked up at me with those big brown eyes of hers and I felt my heart ache. Peter used to give me that same look and it was one I could never deny. "Where did he go?"  
  
"He went to wrestle somewhere else," I explained as simply as I could. How do you explain factions and alliances to a seven year old? How can I tell her that her Uncle Tazz had left her behind for a dream?  
  
Because in the end that's why we drifted apart; Peter's dream of a championship belt around his waist had driven him back to Paul Heyman and into the newly formed Alliance. Although I can't give them all the blame; being bumped up to head commentator after JR's death also had a lot to do with it. Not to mention the guilt we both had been feeling over the fact that we were cheating on our wives with each other, and me with a baby, too. Combine it all and it's a wonder how we stayed together as long as we had.  
  
There wasn't even any good-byes in the end. No final parting, no wishing each other well, nothing. He went with the Alliance and I stayed with the WWF. One month turned into six, six months became a year, and soon I was far too busy with job and family to give him more than a passing thought. And when my wife was diagnosed with  
advanced cervical cancer, I didn't even have time for that.  
  
It wasn't until I was left alone that Peter's picture went back on my desk and I tried to find him. The Alliance had bottomed out by then and some of their wrestlers had returned to the WWF. Peter hadn't been one of them. My luck wasn't any better when I contacted the independent leagues. It was as if he had dropped off the face of the earth.  
  
/Japan, maybe?/ I mused. /Or maybe he's in Europe or Mexico? They'restarting leagues everywhere now./ But I had put out the word to the main leagues there as well. Nothing.  
  
"Will he come back?" Sabrina asked, dragging me out of my thoughts with wide eyes.  
  
I surveyed my little girl solumnly, brushing a long lock of hair out of her eyes. "I don't know, honey," I finally said. "Maybe someday."  
  
She laid her head back on my shoulder. "I hope so," she finally said. "I miss him."  
  
I tightened my hold on her, giving her a hug. "I know. I miss him, too."  
  
We sat like that for I don't know how long, until the thunder and lightning turned back into ordinary rain. When it did I set Sabrina back onto her feet. "Okay to go back to bed now?"  
  
She peered out the window doubtfully for a moment, then finally nodded. "Will you come and tuck me in?"  
  
I nodded. "I'll be right up, honey. Let Daddy get the lights." I leaned down to kiss her. "You go on." She headed up the stairs, dragging her orange bear behind her.  
  
I watched her go up with a smile on my face. I may not have Peter, but at least I wasn't all alone. Someone would always be home waiting for me while I had Sabrina.  
  
I went through the house, checking windows, locking doors and turning off lights. /Might as well go to bed, too,/ I mused, pausing at my desk. The column could wait another day and God knows I wouldn't be able to work on it in my present state of mind.  
  
I was climbing up the stairs when I heard a faint knock at the front door. I checked my watch, frowning. It was late and I definitely wasn't expecting anyone.  
  
/Probably someone stranded from the storm,/ I guessed, heading back down. Clicking on the hall light, I unlocked the door and opened it,about to ask the person standing there if he needed help when I noticed who it was and stopped dead.  
  
The person standing at the door was Peter.  
  
He looked wonderful, even dripping wet. It took a minute for me to see the subtle changes in him: the circles under his dark eyes, the weight he had lost. Fear shot through me when I saw the cane he was leaning on; so he had been injured. How bad?  
  
But it was the look in his eyes that made my heart ache. Resignation and sadness combined with the briefest flash of joy and more than a touch of fear. So glad to see me and yet scared to pieces at the same time and so tired that he was ready to drop. I couldn't help wondering just what he had been though the past five years to cause him to look so sad, so exhausted, so defeated. Whatever it was, it had left it's mark.  
  
We stood in the doorway, simply drinking in the sight of each other after so long. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer; without a word I threw my arms around him and gave him the hardest hug I could muster.  
  
I felt his arms slide around me, hugging me just as tightly, just as close. "You're getting all wet, Mikey," he said, his voice choking on the words.  
  
I couldn't help letting out a little sob. "I don't care." I'd stand out in the rain forever if it meant hearing that sweet Brooklyn-laced accented voice of his call me Mikey again. "God, I've missed you!"  
  
"Missed you, too, baby. So much." I felt him kiss my hair. "You don't know how...damnit...Michael..." his entire body shook hard in my arms as he buried his face in my shoulder. It took me a minute to realize what he was doing, but when I did my heart almost stopped from the shock.  
  
Peter was crying.  
  
I've NEVER seen him cry. Never.  
  
"No...oh, no, love don't." I found myself whispering into his ear, fighting back my own tears. The fact that his defenses were crumbling now told me just how hard our five years apart had been on him. "Don't, please don't cry. It's all right, love. You're home now. Shh, now. my love...Shh. Shh."  
  
I held him tightly, murmuring love words and nonsense until we were both soaked through. A shiver ran through me; we'd both end up with pneumonia if we stayed outside much longer. "Come on. Come in with me," I coaxed, tugging at him. "Please, love? You'll get sick out here."  
  
Somehow I managed to get him inside and into the downstairs bathroom. "Get out of those clothes and dry off," I ordered, wondering for a moment just what I was going to do for clothes for him. Even with the weight he lost, he's still a lot bigger than I am.  
  
He must've read my mind. "Duffel in the front seat," he said as he peeled off his jacket. I nodded and went to get it.  
  
I came back a moment later to find him still struggling with his sweatshirt. "Want some help?" I asked quietly. God, it hurt to see him like this...  
  
He didn't say anything, just stopped and let out a resigned little sigh. Dropping his bag by the door, I went over to him and gently tugged until it was over his head and on the floor. "There. Okay?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. I can manage the rest." He didn't look at me. "Go on. Before you catch cold."  
  
I drew away, a little hurt but understanding why he needed to be alone. Five years is a long time. "Sure. I'll make some coffee. Come out into the living room when you're done." He gave me a nod and I closed the door behind me.  
  
After changing my own clothes in the laundry room I put the coffee pot on, my mind full of questions. Yet I was equally determined to give him the space he needed as well; if he didn't want to answer questions, that was fine. I was just glad he was here.  
  
I was just setting two cups on the coffee table when he came out, dressed in black sweats and leaning heavily on his cane. He waved away my offer to help with a shake of his head. "It's not too bad. Just stiff from driving so long, and the weather isn't helping." He sat down on the sofa. "Trust me, it's been a helluva lot worse."  
  
"What happened?" I asked as I pushed the table a little closer. "Here. Put it up if you need to."  
  
"Thanks." He eased his leg up, wincing as he did so. "Blew out my knee while I was teaching over in Russia. Tried to show one of the kids I was working with how to crash a knee into someone without getting hurt and I landed wrong. Fucked it all up."  
  
My eyes widened. "Russia?" No wonder I hadn't been able to find him.  
  
"Yeah. Didn't you know?" I shook my head and a frown crossed his face as he continued. "I got a call after Alliance folded. Someone over there saw me training the kids on Tough Enough and thought I could do the same thing over there. Didn't have a lot of options, so I went." He paused. "Thought for sure someone would've said something to you."  
  
I shrugged. "Not a lot of the Alliance members came back," I explained; it was partially true. A lot of them hadn't for whatever reasons. But the real truth was that a lot of the time I kept to myself backstage. I didn't want to get too close again.  
  
He gave me a look that told me he knew I wasn't telling him everything, but he let it go. "So how have you been?"  
  
"Pretty good. Busy." God, we sounded so normal playing catch up. Like it had only been yesterday instead of five years ago.  
  
"Yeah. I saw you on Smackdown last week. You sounded good." He suddenly grinned. "Who was the dork sitting next to you though?"  
  
I couldn't help smiling as well. "New guy. They've been trying me out with a bunch of people since Kevin left and I don't get along with either Paul or Jerry. So far they haven't had much luck." I shrugged. "I just haven't clicked with any of them."  
  
"Yeah. Noticed that, too." He took a sip of his coffee. "You were like pulling teeth to get a comment out of him."  
  
"Yeah. Jason's a good kid..." I shrugged again, trying to find the words. "It was always so easy with the two of us, you know?"  
  
"'Cause we knew how to play off each other," Peter said quietly."And we got along well, even before...even before." He closed his eyes  
for a moment, sighing. "I never should've left you, Mikey. It's been damn lonely without you."  
  
"For me, too," I murmured. "But I know why you did. Vince wouldn't give you the chance you wanted. Stephanie and Shane did."  
  
"Yeah. Fat lot of good it did me. Shoulda stuck to what I knew best instead of chasing a pipe dream." Just when I was about to contradict him, he changed the subject, his tone turning from bitter to somber. "I heard about Karen. I'm sorry."  
  
Now it was my turn to sigh as I looked down at my hands; I had put my wedding ring away, unable to deal with the grief of seeing it. "Thanks." I glanced at his own hands; his wedding ring was gone as well. "Beverly?"  
  
"Left me before I went to Russia," he said shortly. "It got to her, me being gone all the time and that was the last straw. Last I heard, she moved to Fresno and was gonna marry a dentist."  
  
"I'm sorry," I murmured; what else could I say?  
  
He shrugged. "Better this way, really," he said, putting his cup down. "She never said, but I think she knew my heart belonged to someone else." He looked directly at me.  
  
I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Karen said as much, too, right before she died," I said quietly. "She said that she had never seen me happier than when I was with you."  
  
We were both silent for a moment, then Peter asked softly, "So...uh...is there...you know...anyone?"  
  
"No." Putting my own cup down, I moved from my chair to sit next to him on the sofa. On an impulse, I reached over and took his hand. "Except for you. There's always been you."  
  
"Ah, hell, Mikey," I've never seen him look so embarassed, but he didn't let my hand go. "Don't tell me you waited for me."  
  
"Of course I did," I answered, a little suprised. "Why shouldn't I? Just because you left doesn't mean I stopped thinking about you, stopped loving you." I paused, ducking my head. "My feelings never changed." Had his? I didn't want to think about that.  
  
"It's not that," he said, running his thumb over our clasped fingers. "God knows I never stopped loving you, either. It's just...coming back...I didn't wanna assume nothing, you know? Especially after I heard about Karen. And with this." He gestured to his knee. "I mean...I never expected you to welcome me back into your life with open arms or anything. I figured you'd have...you know...moved on. 'Cause the last thing you need when you're shining through is an ex-wrestler with a gimp leg whose got nowhere else to  
go."  
  
I stared at him; did he honestly think I'd push him away just because of his injury? What kind of a man did he think I was?  
  
Then I realized what had provoked the words. Peter's always been two things; very stubborn and very proud. That combination had always been the cause of our few and far between fights; Peter was usually too stubborn to admit something was wrong and too proud to admit he needed help. I think it's the Brooklyn in him. I know it was the only thing about him that drove me absolutely batshit crazy.  
  
Time for some convincing, then. "Peter, love, look at me." I ordered gently and after a moment he did. "You know, you're dead wrong." At his confused look, I continued. "I do need you. I need you now more than ever." I paused for a moment, thinking back. "Do you know how many times something's happened to me, doesn't matter what, and all I  
could think was "God, I wish Peter was here to see this?"" I squeezed his fingers. "It felt like I was missing the one thing in my life I needed the most, the one person who always kept me sane. And I am NOT going to let my sanity walk out the door when he just walked back in."  
  
"But..." he began and I silenced him with a kiss.  
  
"No buts," I said firmly. "And none of that stuff about having nowhere else to go, either. You're here now. This is your home."  
  
"No," Peter whispered, his dark eyes wide. "Mikey...baby, I can't ask..."  
  
I kissed him again; maybe if I did it enough he'd stop protesting and just accept things. "You're not asking me. I'm telling you how it's going to be." I smiled. "The way I see it, you don't have a hell of a lot of choice in the matter."  
  
By the look on his face I could tell that what I was saying was slowly sinking in. He was still being stubborn, though. "And this?" he asked, putting a hand on his knee.  
  
I looked him squarely in the eye. "Do you honesly think that matters to me?" I asked softly. "It doesn't. If anything I admire you for dealing with it in a foreign country all alone."  
  
"I can't wrestle anymore," he said quietly, sadly and my heart went out to him. The one thing he loved to do, and he couldn't do it anymore.  
  
"Well, we'll just have to find you something else to do, then," I said, trying to be cheerful for his sake. An idea suddenly came to me. "The chair next to me at ringside is still open. And God knows we need someone who knows what he's doing."  
  
He surveyed me solumnly for a moment, but I could tell by the way his eyes had brightened that he liked the idea. Liked it a lot. I made a mental note to talk to Vince tomorrow. Knowing how frustrated he was getting with not finding a permanent partner for me, he'd probably welcome Peter back with open arms. "You got everything all figured out, haven't you?"  
  
"Pretty much." I couldn't contain the grin I was hiding. "Well? Are you going to keep thinking up excuses or are you going to give up and give in gracefully?"  
  
"Well...since you're probably gonna pester me until I do..." He reached over and ran a finger along my beard. "I love you, Mikey."  
  
I mirrored the gesture, my heart bursting with joy. "I love you, too." My hand went to the back of his neck and I pulled him into a gentle kiss.  
  
We sat there for quite awhile, simply learning each other again when my daughter made her presence known. "Daddy! You said you'd tuck me  
in!" she yelled from the top of the stairs.  
  
We broke apart, both of us turning toward the staircase. "I sent her back up right before you knocked," I said, feeling a little guilty. "The storm woke her."  
  
"I remember," Peter said quietly. "You always used to come in with the worst circles under your eyes the day after a thunderstorm." He paused, a look of longing crossing his face. "Think she'll remember me?"  
  
/He missed her, too,/ I thought, a smile crossing my face as I heard Sabrina thump her way down the stairs. "I think so," I whispered, wondering what her reaction was going to be.  
  
I didn't have long to wait. She got to the landing, clutching her bear in one hand while she held onto the railing with the other. "Daddy, you SAID..." she began indignantly before stopping dead in her tracks when she saw I wasn't alone. It took her a moment to realize who it was, but when she did her face lit up with one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen.  
  
"Uncle Tazz!" She shrieked before breaking into a run. She hurled herself into his arms, wrapping her little ones around his neck ans squeezing hard. "You came back! I missed you SO much!"  
  
He slowly slid his arms around her. "I missed you, too, sweetie," he said, choking on the words. I couldn't blame him for that; my eyes  
were filling up, too.  
  
Sabrina drew away enough to cup Peter's face in her little hands. "Don't ever leave again," she said sternly. "Never ever never. Promise?"  
  
He nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay, sweetie. I promise," he said, brushing a lock of her hair back with shaking fingers. "Never ever never."  
  
"You stay with me and Daddy from now on and not go away no more," she persisted stubbornly. I couldn't blame her for that; her Uncle Tazz had left her once, and she was going to make damn sure he didn't do it again.  
  
Well, we'd both make sure of that.  
  
"Promise, Uncle Tazz?" she pleaded, her dark eyes wide, giving him the same look she always gave me when she wanted her own way. "Promise?"  
  
"I promise, sweetie," he said softly, drawing Sabrina back into her arms. "I won't leave you two alone again. I promise."  
  
Unable to contain myself any longer, I wrapped my arms around them both, my heart overflowing with joy. Kissing Sabrina's long hair, I leaned my head against Peter's, whispering into his ear the words I never thought I'd ever have the chance to say. "I love you," I breathed, kissing his cheek. "Welcome home."


End file.
